“I already said yes,” I say softly, shrugging out of his grip. “I just want to see my sister.”
“Our sister,” he corrects with a shake of his head. “We’re all family here—or have you forgotten already?”
“You have my word that I’ll do what you need me to if you just let me see Cleo,” I repeat, taking a step away from him.
There’s something about him that reminds me of Dad so much, and what worries me the most is that Bryden doesn’t see it himself.
“Hm. Pinky promise?” he asks, holding up his hand. Against my better judgement and my need to see Cleo overpowering my good sense, I take his pinky in mine and shake.
We stop in the living room and Bryden sits in a leather recliner, motioning for me to sit in any of the available seats. Casey lingers near the entrance to a hallway, but I think it’s due to an overwhelming need to protect his father.
From me? I wonder curiously. If I pose a threat to this family, then I’ve done something wrong already and I want to rectify that because if they see me as a threat, then my chances of seeing my sister are as good as gone.
“First, we need to correct the way you speak to me. I understand you want to see your sister, but I’m the man of this house and deserve to be treated with a modicum of respect,” he begins thoughtfully as he rubs the bridge of his nose with a finger. “Once we get past that step, we can move on to the next one.”
I blink rapidly a few times. He reminds me so much of my father in how he holds himself, and his mannerisms, that it makes me wonder if he sees me as a worthless child too.
But I’m not.
I’m a man now.
I have a house of my own. I’m trying to make a wife out of my sister, because that’s what I was taught to do, and I’m trying to carry on the Greene name. I won’t be able to keep my word to Dad if I don’t have Cleo back in the house, though.
“Okay,” I reply slowly. Clearing my throat, I run a hand back through my hair and shift in my seat. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you, I’m just really interested in seeing my sister and taking her off your hands. I’m sure you’ve done a wonderful job with her, but it’s time she comes home where she belongs.”
“She belongs with family, Richter,” Bryden replies cheerfully.
“I know. That’s what I said,” I reply in confusion.
The man across the room from me turns his attention toward his son and nods at him. I watch carefully, waiting for Casey to enter and try to throw me out, but instead he turns around and walks out of the room.
Bryden lets out a heavy sigh as he stares at the now empty doorway. I can see something is weighing on his mind, but he seems to be enjoying his little game of mental cat and mouse and I can feel myself ready to shake answers out of him.
That’s the Dad in me.
When something doesn’t go my way, I lash out because it’s what I’d seen done so many times.
Deep breath. Inhale, exhale; it’ll all be okay.
And that’s the Mom in me.
The level-headed coolness that falls over me, forcing me to calm the ire I feel building because I know it won’t get me anywhere.
“I guess it’s about time we had a talk, Richter. A real one. About family.”
Eleven
Bryden
I rarely have to lecture my kids anymore. The older ones tend to do it for me because they know the rules of my house, they know my expectations—but Richter isn’t mine.
He’s blood, but… different. A brother is something completely new to me. Untested ground. I never got to know the only sibling I ever knew about. Jocelyn, who got me kicked out of Luke’s house just because she was born, because she was the child he claimed so easily, but that’s not Richter’s fault.
Still, he needs to know the rules.
My rules.
So, I lecture and explain and encourage his questions. We talk about respect, about the need to love everyone in a family equally, and about the legacy of the Greene family.
Luke’s legacy.
The legacy I know Richter is trying desperately to continue with his sister Skylar… and with Cleo.
He interrupts me several times to ask about her, but I remind him to be patient and eventually his questions turn to the how of my family. I tell him about my first children, Ella and Wesley, but I skim over the issues that put them in the ground. Instead, I focus on Xoe, mentioning Tristan and Damon only in passing before I bring him back to the wonderful, happy family still living under my roof. All of my children.
Thirteen beautiful lives—because I count Cleo among them—who have never spent a day wondering if they were loved, wanted, or welcome in this house.
That is the legacy I have created in the wake of Luke’s decisions, and I can see the confusion and the hunger in Richter’s eyes even though he won’t speak it aloud. No, the more I’ve talked about how we all love each other, how we all contribute to the house and the raising of each new generation… the quieter Richter has become.
Brow furrowed, eyes dark like Luke’s, but although he’s blood… I can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking. All I can sense is the need to belong, and more than anything I want him to choose this family. To join us with his sister and bring the Greene legacy together.
No longer splintered and torn apart. Scattered by Luke’s secrets.
But, finally, unified.
The sun has dipped below the horizon as I let my lecture wind down and allow Richter the silence to think—or at least as much silence as there ever is in my house. There’s a buzz of activity in the kitchen where
